Beautiful Sinner
by The Nutty One
Summary: Alex hated the way his body responded to the Russian's. He was supposed to hate everything about him... But how could he when he knew they'd meet again? Either to kill each other, or create another beautiful sin... Contract Killer Alex. Alex Rider/Yassen Gregorovich.


Beautiful Sinner

The black brief case felt heavy in his hand and his shoes _clicked_ quietly on the cold flagstones beneath his feet. His knuckles were white despite his loose grip on the case. He had to appear calm and collected…nothing could give him away. His blonde hair was in messy waves around his face and he walked with confident steps, his eyes scanning the walk ahead for any danger.

He was in an abandoned warehouse. Tall brick red walls rose on either side over him, metal bars crossing over high above his head. A few of the windows had been smashed years ago either by local teenagers looking for a thrill or by howling winds that whistled around the area. The naked bulbs above him flickered but their light was dimmed by years of grime and lack of use. Rats scurried away when they heard her footsteps, as if even they were scared.

They should be.

The glock hooked in his belt was proof of that. Alex Rider had taken so many lives with it; just one pull of the trigger was needed. And then their life ended. So quickly, so easily taken…but he took no thrill in killing. Alex wasn't a sadist. He didn't enjoy the cold blooded murders, but they were necessary. He'd collected so many enemies over the years…

Alex never forgot their names.

But he'd forgotten, or forced out of his memory, just how many of their lives he'd ended.

A contract killer: that was what he was. He worked for the highest bidder. For seven years he'd remained undetected despite the FBI's best efforts to track him. Alex had lived everywhere and anywhere that was required so he could stay hidden. Nothing had stopped him.

Only his message had stopped him.

His phone, a basic Nokia that was indestructible with an untraceable number, had buzzed to life earlier last month. How had he got his number? Alex only had contact with a handful of people and even less had a means of which to communicate with him. Which one of them had betrayed Alex to him? Whoever it was wouldn't be alive at the end of the week.

For days Alex had contemplated his wishes. He hadn't demanded, he never did, and he was too proud and egotistical to beg. He had simply _asked_ and that was the most confusing thing. Most of Alex's clients, high level operatives that paid good money, often had to grovel at his feet before he even thought about taking on their assignments. Yet he had accepted his arrangement with very little questioning.

Alex had located and obtained the briefcase with very little effort. It was being transported from France to London via a series of armed vehicles when he'd intercepted it. Only eleven guards had been murdered. But every job had its collateral damage.

In the far corner a light, stronger than the others, kept the lurking shadows at bay with a knife's edge. Beneath the light bulb were two medium sized crates. A shadowed figure stood in front of the crates. His shirt was gun metal grey, un-tucked with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. From what Alex could see, he hid no weapons in his black jeans.

Just like Alex, he didn't have to. They weren't stupid. They both knew that the other wouldn't come unprepared for a fight.

"I see that you came," he said clearly without turning around. Under the words Alex detected the faintest Russian accent that he had failed to fully cover.

As he neared the crates, Alex took note of the objects in front of the man. A standard silver flask filled with a drink – most probably coffee laced with vodka; even killers needed their daily caffeine fix. Beside it were two knives. They were identical. Both had double edge ivory blades, one with more scratches than the other. Their handles were a dark wood. If he looked closely enough, he could have seen the red flecks that had soaked into the wood…

"Don't even think about it," he murmured softly, finally turning to meet Alex. "One of the blades has fresh poison on it. One cut from it and you'll be dead within the hour."

Alex hadn't heard his words. When he'd turned around Alex had been taken back to that night they'd spent together under the covers in a pent house a few years prior. What a beautiful sin they'd committed. Both of them were enemies, enemies to themselves and enemies to the state. Everything about their arrangement was wrong.

So terribly wrong…

So beautifully right…

Yassen Gregorovich's blonde hair, like an angel's halo, and as deceptive as one, had been splattered with the rain. Yet his deep dark eyes had been alight. It had been his eyes that had captured Alex in the beginning. No matter how many lives Yassen had taken, how many blades he had seen slice through people's throats they still held a sparkle that his own had lost with his first kill. He'd felt their connection immediately.

And he felt it once more. Alex hated how his body responded to him, needed him so badly. It had been so long since he'd had any contact with anyone, male or female. He took another step towards Yassen Gregorovich.

"I finished the agreement." He showed him the black brief case. It was light in his hands, weighed barely anything more than what an empty case would. Alex didn't know what was inside it, he hadn't looked. He hadn't wanted to. It would be better in the long run if he didn't…the less he knew the better things would be. "I'd like the money now."

Yassen Gregorovich nodded silently before reaching into the front pocket of his jeans. From them he produced a black electronic key pad. "On your way out you will see a black Audi R8 waiting for you. Under the driver's seat you'll find what you're looking for." Gregorovich spoke softly, a small smirk playing on the corners of his mouth as if he knew the effect he had on Alex… The bastard… "Keep the car." The smirk became more pronounced. He held the car keys out to him.

Placing the briefcase at his feet, Alex foolishly reached out for the electronic key pad. His fingers closed around the key pad, the plastic cool in his heated grasp.

But Yassen Gregorovich was faster. His hand closed around Alex's wrist, his long fingers meeting. Alex dropped the keys in surprise and his free hand searched his belt for the glock. Silencer or not, it was better than nothing. His hand searched his belt fruitlessly.

Alex's hand froze when he heard Gregorovich chuckle to himself. There was a dull _thud_ as he placed the weapon on the crates behind him. "I'm not stupid," he said slowly, letting every word sink in. "I know you'll have more weapons-" Alex became hyper aware of the small blade hidden in the sole of his shoe – "somewhere, it's just a matter of finding where."

Suddenly his vision blurred as Gregorovich spun him around quickly. Alex's back was to his hard muscular chest, his shirt bunching up on the left hand side. His right arm was crossed around his waist, holding him in place. His left arm was raised to Alex's neck, a knife pressed to his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw only one blade on the crates.

"Why don't you just give in?" Gregorovich murmured into his ear, genuine curiosity in his voice. "You've done it before. And we both need it now." Only now did Alex become aware of Gregorovich's erection pressing against his thigh. His breathing hitched with his desire and his words. "Answer me, _мой любовник__*."_

Alex closed his eyes at the familiar Russian words. He'd whispered them to him that night… And every time they met after that. Not trusting himself, Alex remained silent.

"What are you so scared of?" Gregorovich whispered, the heat of his breath making Goosebumps rise on the flesh of his neck.

His right hand gently teased the skin of Alex's hip, rubbing small circles in one area. He couldn't feel the knife against his throat but he wasn't foolish enough to forget it was there. Gregorovich was always prepared.

"That you'll kill me," he wet his lips with his tongue, "or kiss me." Alex wasn't sure which he was more afraid of. Live without his dignity and give into him like his body desired? Or reject his body's wishes but die with his dignity?

"But which do you want, _моя любовь__*?"_

It took but a moment for him to decide. "Kill me."

"It is your choice," Gregorovich murmured regretfully, his tone gentle yet cold. His right hand stilled with its movement and his left hand tensed. At least it would be a swift death…

Alex kept his eyes open, focused on a single light bulb. He felt the stinging as the knife, whether it had poison or not, sliced through his flesh like butter. Where the Goosebumps had been for desire, they were now replaced with chills that nearly shook his body.

Blood trickled down his pale throat… His chest rose and fell steadily against Alex's back… The light bulb in front of him flickered in its effort to stay alive… Alex's blood mixed with the flecks that remained on the handle of the ivory knife… His right arm around his waist began to loosen as the blade finished the cut…

Taking his chance, Alex twisted in his arms. When he was facing Gregorovich, he pushed himself away, stumbling in the process. Yassen Gregorovich didn't even move with the effort… Alex turned to him and spat at his feet.

He didn't even flinch. Instead he did nothing. He was just going to let Alex go like that… For some reason that made his anger diminish. How stupid was that? How foolish…he could have killed him! Yet he felt not an ounce of anger or disgust towards him…

Turning on his heel Alex strode from him. Instead of feel confident (the job was finished so he had nothing to worry about) he felt more shaken than he had throughout the whole arrangement.

Only when he heard the smashing of glass did Alex turn to face him. The light bulb that he had stared at a few minutes ago was shattered, the glass littering the floor where they had previously stood. Just behind the glass Yassen Gregorovich stood with the glock in his hand. With a swift movement he detached the gun's magazine. He threw magazine into the shadowed edges of the warehouse where it skidded and disappeared into the darkness. Silently he threw the empty glock towards him.

Alex caught it in one hand.

"The Audi will be waiting for you," he said, his voice betraying no emotion. It was as if the last few moments hadn't even happened. He threw the electronic key pad towards him which he caught in his other hand.

Nodding – there were no words for what he felt – Alex continued his walk away from him. Alex's shoes _clicked_ on the cold flagstones but his shoulders were hunched over. When he reached the large doorway, he looked back over his shoulder.

Stood in the light of the bulb, Yassen Gregorovich stood next to the brief case but his eyes were trained solely on Alex.

"The blade didn't have the poison." His voice echoed down the empty warehouse, bouncing off the red brick walls.

"I know."

"Good. Прощай, моя любовь_*" _His dark eyes stayed trained on Alex.

"Goodbye, Yassen," Alex murmured. He tried to remember as much about him as he could. From his sunlight coloured hair to the three-hundred-thousand dollar Audemars Piguet watch on his right wrist. Most of all it was sparkle in his eyes that Alex would never forget.

But he knew they'd meet again.

Maybe they'd kill each other…

Or maybe they'd commit another beautiful sin…

1)_*my lover_

_2)*my love_

_3) *goodbye, my love_

**Hey up, it's a bit different from what I usually write haha. Hope you enjoyed it, I Didn't call Yassen by just "Yassen" until the end for the informal tone. I wanted it to come across as Alex not particularly liking him haha. Please review! :D xx**


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